22nd Sunday after Trinity
The Why Not, Hemlington
Hungover but determined to ignore the ailment. I went to 'bottle up' at sunrise with eyes a rustic hue. John similarly pink eyed. A huge fried breakfast was followed by 2 hours of work. Sundays are always good, almost relaxed. Janette laughed at Jan, the village tart, and we sat in the bay window blinking in the sunlight. Pat, the battered wife was in and we worried expecting the arrival of the battering husband, Mick. Slept in the afternoon and ignored the TV. The Jane Eyre series is amateurish and unworthy of the BBC. Busy night.
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